The Smoke I Inhale
by Crystallised-Hearts
Summary: Resting at the 188 Trading Post, Jade finds herself unwillingly helping an injured NCR soldier after the battle at Hover Dam. However, the soldier isn't who he claims to be. Going by the name Fox, he accompanies Jade as she struggles to stay alive against her employers - a fate not easy to be freed from. For Fox? Revenge is no simple thing. Vulpes Inculta x OC. Comments appreciated
1. A Long Way Down The Wrong Path

The Smoke I Inhale

Chapter I: A Long Way Down the Wrong Path

A dark sky hung over the desert's trading post. The heavy clouds slowly passed in the reflection of my glass and blended with the dark contents of nuka-cola and vodka. I unwrapped the scarf from around my chin and took a large gulp. The alcohol burned the lower part of my throat, but it was worth it.

The wind came still from the west and brought a dusty smell from the wasteland, yet there was another smell to it, one that reminded me of burned wood. It was smoke. In the distance the clouds were darker, but that didn't seem to capture much attention, so it left my mind as soon as I looked away.

The flag of a two headed bear waved in the breeze, yet there were hardly any soldiers around. Tents were positioned outside of the trading post, of course, but they were unoccupied. In fact, all I had seen in my visit to the 188 Trading Post was the agitated stares of the merchants directed east and the sharp fingers that itched too close to their weapons for comfort.

Thick, leather boots crunched against the dirt. A bare arm leaned over the bar's surface and pulled up a stool.

"Been a while since we've had a good drink, ey?" Dean said and pulled his cracked goggles down. The goggles fell to his collarbone with only the string left to keep it attached.

"Too long," I agreed and, with a grunt, gestured to the bartender for more.

It wasn't much of a bar to begin with, just a couple of wooden boards nailed together with the shells of an old bus as a roof. Add a couple of bottles, an ash tray, a lantern or two and a radio and a person had a bar.

"How's Miller doing with the brahmin?" I asked after a moment.

"He's doing well," my brother said and scratched the edge of his stubble. His finger rested by the pale scar at the tip of his chin and tapped twice. "Should be ready to leave at dawn."

"Good. We can't waste anymore time. We're late to New Vegas as it is."

I let the silence string out and watched as the young nightcrawler bit into an old tin can by my feet. There were many strange looks when we first arrived, but once the merchants and wastelanders realised that Scout wasn't going to eat them, they turned their attention to other matters.

Finally, as my glass was refilled, I said, "Why is everyone so quiet around here?"

"You don't know?" the barman asked and placed the bottle on the counter. "The war's over."

I raised an eyebrow. "War?"

"Yeah, you know. The war between the Legion and the NCR at the dam?"

My fingers twitched around the glass. "Really?"

"Yeah. We got the news late last night." The man grinned. "Can't tell ya the amount of drinks that were shared."

I glanced over my shoulder and frowned. "Then why is everyone so... quiet?"

"Well, most of the troops have left for the Strip. It's not that I ain't glad that it's over, because trust me I am, but just because the war's over doesn't mean there aren't survivors, and I ain't talking about survivors on our side."

A chill ran down my back. "So... you think that Legion soldiers will find this place and take over?"

The barman raised his hands and shook his head. "Now, I never said that, but it's possible. We're close to the dam from here. It'd only take a group of them to wander their way up the road and find us."

Dean stretched out his arms and yawned. "That won't happen. NCR probably made the road secure before heading to the city, and even if there are Legion, there's a lot more of us round here then there are of them. There's nothing to worry about."

"Maybe," replied the barman. "But in all honesty, I'd rather have a few more soldiers to stand guard. Having just us leaves me a 'lil uneasy."

With a groan, Dean stood up. "Well, while you worry about things that won't happen, I'm going to see if there's any old robotic parts I can salvage."

I sighed. "Again?"

With a raised eyebrow, he crossed his arms. "You'll see. One of these days the metal I collect will be worth something."

_Sure it will,_ I thought, rolled my eyes and returned to my drink.

It wasn't long before it was midnight. The last unsteady note of 'It's A Sin To Tell A Lie' faded away and the radio fell silent. With Scout trailing behind, I left the bar and wandered over to the caravan. The brahmin's reigns had been tied to the concrete fence over one of the bridges and Old Miller, the trader Dean and I accompanied through the Mojave, was too busy searching through his belongings to pay me much notice other than a quick smile.

I prodded one of the bedrolls with my foot before I decided that it was good enough to sleep on. I unhooked the pistol from my belt and placed it on the ground. The young nightcrawler curled up on the lower half of the bed, his fury body and scaly head barely distinguishable from the covers and he quickly fell asleep. I smiled.

"I swear I saw something over there!" a voice called from one of the roads.

"You're seeing things. Come on. You've had too much to drink," said another.

Curious, I picked up the pistol and peeped over the fence. Close to the bottom of the hill were two caravan guards. One cocked the end of his shotgun and dared a step into the darkness of the desert.

The other grabbed his shoulder. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I tell you I heard something!"

"Oi, lads," I called from the bridge. "What's going on?"

"Nothing for you to concern yourself with. Get back to your caravan," said the more sane of the two.

The guard with the shotgun took another step forward. "Get her down here, Joseph."

"For the last time, there isn't anything out there."

But there was.

A low groan echoed through the darkness. It was soon accompanied by the slouching of feet and a hazy form began to emerge from the shadow.

Both guards held their weapons up, ready to fire. I raised my arm high, just below my chin and in line with the form. I could feel the sweat bead from my forehead. The groans grew loader against my strained ears.

"W-wait," came a voice. It was hoarse, almost breathless and whoever said it was barely able to end it without a heavy cough.

The guards lowered their weapons.

The one called Joseph shook his head. "It's NCR."

I peeked further over the fence. He was right. The trooper was clad head to toe in green armour with the painting of the two headed bear on his chest plate. What worried me though was the large crimson stains around his stomach and arms.

"I..." The stranger's knees crumbled and he fell heavily in a spray of blood upon the sand.

"We need help over here!" the guards called and, after I grabbed my pack and woke Dean, I rushed down the hill to them.

Two other NCR soldiers who were stationed at the trading post soon accompanied us. It was not long before the whole place was awake, full of shocked and curious faces.

Through the crowd, I was able to make out the stranger. He had a long face, gaunt, pale and deeply scarred. A burn marred his jaw and left cheek. It was minor compared to the rest of him.

An NCR officer shook the stranger's shoulder.

"Soldier?" he said.

A spasm of pain contorted the stranger's features as he began to wake. His eyes flickered and scanned the crowd around him.

"Soldier?" the officer repeated. "How did this happen?"

The stranger coughed and spluttered blood as he spoke. "The... dam, sir."

The two NCR men took the stranger by the arms. One of the stranger's arms, though, had spots of crimson that ran down in long rivulets.

"Is there a doctor here?" the officer called out to the crowd.

No one answered, a part from Old Miller.

"The girl's got medical training." He patted my shoulder and pushed me forward.

I ground my feet into the dirt and glared at the old man.

The NCR officer looked me up and down and then gestured for me to follow him with an open hand.

The inside of the tent was shadowy and empty, a part from a mattress and duffel bag. The stranger was carefully placed onto the mattress and then the NCR soldier ran out to try and find a medical kit. I knelt on the ground and let out a deep breath.

_Where to begin?_ I wondered. _Curse Miller for bringing me into this._

I swallowed thickly. "M-my medical training is limited." I paused and frowned. "If this man dies, I will not carry his death on my conscience."

The officer took off his red beret and mopped his forehead. His worried gaze met mine. "No one's asking you to, ma'am. Just, do your best."

"I... I'm going to need help. My brother Dean should be outside. He's a mechanic." The officer's brows furrowed, but I paid it no notice. "He knows as much as I do about this. Get him in here."

"I'll see it's done."

As the officer left, I turned my attention to the stranger on the bed and froze. He was awake.

He tilted his head, as if he tried to study me. His dark eyes were piercing and enquiring, but there was a ghost of pain behind them; pain he tried to hide.

_Why, though? _

I wasn't a doctor. I wasn't a field medic. It was difficult to think or form of any words that may have helped him. Everything I thought of was useless, so I went with, "I'm going to try to help you."

He simply nodded.

"Stay awake, though. If you don't, I can't help you."

It was only an amount of time before the officer and soldier had returned with both a medical kit and my brother. Dean took one look at the man and froze.

I swatted his shoulder. "It's just blood, now cut off his armour. I need to get to the wound."

After several blinks, he shook his head and did as he was told.

Through the procedure I noticed that the stranger's eyes had began to waver.

"What's your name?" I quickly asked him.

He shook his head and looked up at me with a raised eyebrow.

"I'm Jade, if you care," I said and took a look at his wounds. They were worse that I thought: deep and ghastly.

Without a reply, I took hold of a cloth and dampened it in a bowl of water. "You need to stay awake."

The stranger's lips curled into a snarl when the cloth was applied. He gasped and held his tongue. Once the worst of the pain was over, he looked up. An expression crossed him face, almost impossible to decipher.

"Fox..." was all he said before his eyes rolled back and he lost consciousness.

҉

"I can't leave the post," the NCR officer said outside of the tent. "We have orders to stay here until otherwise."

The soldier shook his head. "But he's going to die."

"I can't go against orders and we have no radios to contact headquarters."

"Then we just leave him? Sir, permission to take him myself."

"Permission denied, soldier. I can't lose the only man I have here."

I stood by the tent's entrance with Scout by my side. The two soldiers had been arguing for the better half of an hour with other traders including Dean and Old Miller around them.

"Can someone else not take him?" the officer asked.

As before, the crowd went silent, and as before, it was the old man that decided to speak up, much to my regret.

"Well, we're going to the Crimson Caravan Company in the mornin'. If I'm right, there's a hospital not too far away. We can take him there and make sure the boy's in fighting shape. He should be able to make it to your headquarters from there."

I could practically feel my stomach churn at the idea. "Now, wait a moment, Miller. Dean and I can't waste anymore time. We need to get to New Vegas quickly and he'll only slow us down."

The shallow lines carved into the old man's round face scrunched into a frown, and he crossed his arms so slowly that it made my fingers twitch. "Now, you'd leave a wounded man fighting for his life because you're late for a meeting with some business folk?" He waited, then glared. "What kind of brahmin crap is that?"

I refused to meet his eye. "Look, you don't know our employers. We need to get to the Strip. If that means leaving him behind, then so be it. You promised to take us there, Miller. Don't go back on it now."

After a long moment, he let out a heavy sigh. "I like ya, kid. You've done good by me on this journey, but if you refuse to take this guy with us, then this is where we part. Sorry, but I'm not that far gone to let this man die. His blood won't be on my hands."

"I did my part!" I said, but he held his hand up.

"I've made up my mind, kid. Make your choice."

He didn't understand the risk Dean and I had put ourselves through for our job. He didn't understand who our employers were and why we were so nervous around them. They were dangerous people, more dangerous than many around the wasteland, and we were already treading on fine rope. But, I respected Miller, more so that others and I knew Dean and I stood a better chance with him than on our own.

"Alright," I decided finally. "But Miller, we leave earlier than planned."

"Agreed." With a satisfied smirk, he turned and wandered back to his caravan.

The NCR men seemed interested by the conversation, but otherwise didn't comment.

"It's a good thing you're doing," the soldier stated with a hand on my shoulder. I shrugged it off and walked over to Dean.

Dean had watched the whole thing. The colour had visibly drained from his face. "It's the right thing, yeah?"

I frowned. "I... I don't know anymore, but we better make sure the artifact is safe. The last thing we need is to loose it."

"We won't," he reassured and tapped his pack.

As we were both about to leave, I glanced back over my shoulder and looked at the sleeping form of the stranger through the tent's parting.

Mister Fox was his name. He was more trouble than he was worth. I only hoped he proved himself useful. I wasn't going to risk my neck for just anyone.

...

_Thank you so much for reading, I hope it was alright. I'll probably change the title of this fanfiction later but yeah, thanks for reading :)_


	2. Something I Never Expected

Chapter II: Something I Never Expected

It was before the break of dawn when we left the trading post and wandered out to the barren wasteland. The centuries old roads had sunk deep into the desert's sand and could sometimes be seen in the rare moments when the wind blew against it.

Old Miller and Dean had taken their time in preparing the brahmin for the trip and it took even longer to strap the injured soldier to the back of it so he wouldn't fall during the ride. It was lucky that the old man had sold most of his merchandise. All we had to carry was the occasional sack of food, water or weapon ammunition.

One of a neighbouring caravan's guards, Joseph, had decided to accompany us. With his help, the load we all had to carry was much more manageable. Though, I wasn't too sure about him. Of course, I could never quite remember a time when I wasn't cautious around a stranger I had first met.

"So, you folk are heading to the Strip?" Joseph asked in a rough voice. In the daylight he was tall, much taller than any of us and wore a shoulder-torn long coat, draped over jean pants that passed his ankles and boots with small glass shards in the thick heels. Dangling from his neck was a set of metal plates with a number etched into the center.

Dean looked up from his map and nodded. "You bet."

"And have you ever been there before?"

"No. First time."

Joseph plucked the reed from his teeth and held it in between his fingers like a cigarette. "Really?"

"You seem surprised by that," I said.

He raised an eyebrow and put the reed back in his mouth. "'Course I am, ma'am. It's not often that I see a group of youngsters headin' to the Strip that have never been before. You're in for a good time though."

Dean eagerly forgot about the map and inched closer to the man. "What's it like?"

Joseph chuckled. "Oh, son, it's a mighty fine place to be. The lights, the shows and don't get me started on the food, but the casinos, well, they're the best places for a boy like yourself." He dipped his head down and tipped his wide-brimmed hat over his face, as if he didn't want me to hear. "My advise? Go to the one with the fire coming out of the top and that has the dancers outside. Trust me, you won't miss it, and you won't regret it either."

A grin twitched at the corners of my brother's lips, but it was Old Miller that got his cheeks to flare up like a campfire.

"What's wrong with him?" Old Miller asked. "He looks like the backside of the brahmin here. Has he been in the sun too long? Hey, boy. You ill?"

Joseph laughed and nudged Dean's shoulder. "Oh, it's nothin'. Was just givin' the son a few special tips for New Vegas."

I frowned, but didn't comment. There was movement out of the corner of my eye. It came from the soldier, Mister Fox, but when I glanced his way, his body remained stiff and lifeless.

"You don't think that bringing him along was the right choice, do you girl?" I heard Miller mutter.

I sighed. "Honestly, no. And it's not just because I'm worried about getting to New Vegas on time."

Pressure was applied to my shoulder and when I looked up, I saw the old man's comforted smile. "Never been one for new people, have ya? I remember the first time I met ya. You wouldn't trust the food I gave ya, never mind having to help ya get to the Mojave." His smile grew. "I remember when you wouldn't eat for days thinking I'd poisoned your beans. Your brother though, he just couldn't stop eating. Had to pry the food from his hands. I swear, if he found out that what he ate was the brahmin's-"

"I don't think that would've stopped him anyway," I said with a smirk.

The old man's laughter filled the silence around us and even made the brahmin stir, but he soon composed himself and wiped the sweat from his brow. "Ah, that's so true, my girl. Probably still won't if I tell him now."

A thought crossed my mind and I slowly lowered my gaze. "How long will you be staying once we make it to New Vegas?"

He let out a heavy sigh and allowed his shoulders to drop. It was at times like that when I could physically see how much the wasteland had aged him. "I... I don't know, but if you ever need anything, you be sure to pay me a visit, you hear?"

I smiled. "I know Miller... and thank you."

The hand that rested on my shoulder left and drifted to his side. "Now, don't get me all teary eyed. We've still got a long way to go."

I nodded at the thought. That we did.

We kept close to the road and didn't stray unless necessary. The outline of the trading post had disappeared and in its place was the sharp, pale ruins of a city. Jagged planks of wood and iron dotted the landscape and the remnants of a concrete bridge stretched far and wide. Many of the bridge's pillars had chunks wedged into the sand and it was clear that we were close to Vegas by the shining light that towered in the distance.

Hope and joy distracted me from reality. The thoughts of what awaited us and the relief that our task was nearly over blinded me from the sight the others had seen, until Dean grasped my arm and yanked me back.

"W-what?" I uttered, but it was the way his eyes stared blankly in front of him and the look of shock that crept across his features that sent a pang of worry through my body.

Ahead were piles of ash and soot and broken crates that scattered the patch of road. What worried us, though, was that one of the crates had the clear mark of the Crimson Caravan Company. The ash piles also held weapons.

"What... happened here?" Dean whispered.

Scout was the first to investigate the scene. His small paws touched the piles of ash and he reeled back at the irony smell that filled the air.

I drew my weapon and crept over to him. Smoke drifted from the ground like an incoming fog.

"Looks like a fight went on here," Joseph said solemnly. "And the ashes we're seeing are the people who lost."

I gulped. That wasn't something I wanted to hear.

Dean's gaze swept over the ash to the crates left half-open. Curiosity must have taken over as he made his way over to one of them and forced it back by the tip of his knife. He knelt down and picked up a glass bottle.

"What'd you find?" Joseph asked.

My brother's finger curved around the tip of the glass and he brought it to his nose. "It's just whiskey." He touched the floor. "There are scorch marks around it, though. Seems like someone wanted to create a fire."

"Seems like they did," Joseph replied.

For some reason, Scout wandered away from the caravan and down a small hill. I took a quick look at my companions before I decided to follow.

A body lay at the bottom. My blood turned cold.

He was not burnt like the others, but was stiff, cold and had been dead for many hours.

On closer inspection, it seemed that he had died from a bullet wound, rather than whatever killed the others. He must have belonged to the caravan though, as he was dressed in simple settler's clothing.

Scout hissed at the dead man and pawed at his hand.

I tried to nudge the nightcrawler away. "Scout. Stop that."

The dead man's fingers uncurled. Inside was an envelope.

_How odd,_ I thought.

Hesitant, I picked it up and tore it open. The ink had blended with the dried blood stains and the tares around the edges made most of the writing illegible, but there was a letter that I could make out at the end. It must have been a signature.

V.

The note fell from my grasp. I stared down at my fingers like they had been burned. That wasn't possible.

"Jade?" a voice called out. It was Dean. "Jade? Where are you?"

It wasn't possible. That signature couldn't have meant what I thought it meant. It must have been someone else.

"Jade?"

"I-I'm here," I quickly yelled and took the note.

I crawled back to the surface. When I arrived back at the caravan, Joseph and Dean were in the middle of a conversation.

Dean turned and frowned. "Where did you go?"

I shrugged. "Scout wandered off. He found a radroach but that's it."

"A radroach? Can I see it?"

"No!"

"Damn it."

"Where's Old Miller?"

Joseph pointed to the far end of the area, at least a few feet away from us. "Your friend's over there. He hasn't moved since we found this place."

"Has anyone asked why?"

Dean tilted his goggles. "He won't talk to us."

"And I suppose that it's up to me then, hmm?"

"Well... yeah. Just, see if he's okay, alright?"

"Alright."

It was strange. Old Miller continued to stare at the crate with the Crimson Caravan Company's name for several heartbeats, even when I made my presence known to him. His face turned paler than the sand itself. After a long moment, he cupped the edge of his face and shook his head. "What monsters did this?"

"Miller?" I said hesitantly. "I... I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" he whispered. His gaze flickered to mine, but all I saw was anger. "No. The bastards who did this are going to be the ones who are sorry when I get my hands on them. I know these people. These traders are good people! No one deserves... this!"

I wanted to say something, but in all honesty there was nothing I could say. I saw things like that everyday. People died within the wasteland and I was sure that he knew that more than anyone else.

I gently touched his shoulder and nudged him away. "It... let's go, Miller."

He did not look up. He simply took the reigns of the brahmin and walked away.

Dean crossed his arms. "I still can't believe this."

"I can't either," Joseph replied. "But I think it might be a good idea to leave now while we're still in one piece. God knows I'd hate to look like a Fire Gecko's lunch."

He was right. Without another look, we left the area and turned to the direction of New Vegas. I couldn't help the urge to tap my trouser pocket every once in a while. The contours of the note and the meaning it had never swayed far from my mind.


	3. A Wounded Soldier

Chapter III: A Wounded Soldier

Across the stretch of road was a long building that had seen better days. Patches of weathered paint peeled from the chipped stonework. Slats of wood and plastic boarded the shattered windows and the twin-doors slanted against their frame. What made it different compared to the other buildings was that it was relatively intact, had a face and cross marked in white and painted over one of the walls and had a small "Follower's of the Apocalypse" sign attached to the roof by a nail.

"Well you lot, here we are. The New Vegas Medical Clinic," Old Miller said with an ounce of pride that I couldn't quite fathom. "Might as well get the boy off the brahmin while he's still kicking."

"Is he still alive?" Joseph asked curiously.

It seemed that he was. Mister Fox's eyes remained closed, but there was a twitch in his fingers and his chest rose with every breath that was taken. He was lucky.

"Mister Fox?" I said. There was no reply.

I stabbed his shoulder with my finger.

His lips parted and he let out a pained groan.

"We're going to have to move you. We can't bring the brahmin into the clinic."

Joseph smirked. "Now that'd be a sight I'd pay to see."

As if in a daze, the soldier's eyes flickered and opened. His attention quickly centered on me. The coldness behind his eyes was strange, almost intimidating, but I kept my shoulders back and head held high.

"You're going to have to come off of that brahmin," I said.

His gaze dropped to the animal he lied on. His brows lowered and for a moment, it seemed that he was at a loss for what to do.

Slowly, his first leg left the brahmin's back and then the other accompanied it until both feet were flat against the dirt. The man's grip on the brahmin hadn't left, only tightened as he tried to steady himself.

I reached out.

His backhand flew out and met my shoulder.

"I do not need your help," said Mister Fox, but his lack of strength to stand more than proved otherwise.

"I can see that. You're not struggling at all," I muttered sarcastically.

When he spoke, his lips curved downward after each word and there was a warning behind his tone. "I said I will be fine."

"Then prove it. Let the brahmin go."

To my surprise, he did, but his legs inevitably gave in. I looped his arm around my neck without a second thought.

"Look," I said. "I don't like this anymore then you do, but stop acting like a child and do as I say."

He was weak and I knew that he'd likely continue his stubbornness if in another situation. No further struggle was made, though, and when the clinic's doors were pulled open, I helped him inside.

The clinic was dark with various parts of plaster missing from the walls and corners. Attached to the ceiling was a small lamp that had just enough power to provide enough light for us to see. By the couches was a set of guards. Both wore black leather armour with weapons strapped to their waists.

They looked our way and sprang from their seats.

"Doctor Usanagi!" one called while the other left to another part of the building.

A woman, dressed in a white overcoat with a device strapped to her chest pocket entered. Her friendly, almost welcoming smile vanished almost instantly and her eyes widened at the sight of us.

"What happened?" she asked with a strained voice, but did not listen to the reply. Without a word or glance at anyone other than the soldier and I, she guided us into a curtained-off section of the building where a steel bed lay in the center and black screens covered the walls, lit with florescent photographs of skeletons. Beside the bed was a tray with many scalpels, tweezers and other medical devices that's names escaped me.

"Put him here," she ordered.

Her assistant turned the large ceiling light on and immediately Mister Fox's wounds were on display.

Mister Fox laid on the metal bed and watched patiently as the doctor gathered her supplies. The guards began to force Dean, Joseph and I out of the room, but halted when the doctor stopped and stared down at the arm that had caught her wrist.

"No." Was what Mister Fox had said.

She frowned. "What do you mean? It's pain medication. You need this before I can perform the surgery-"

"I _don't_ need it. Tend to my wounds without it."

Doctor Usanagi blinked. "You're serious?"

The soldier nodded and let go.

"Everyone else will have to leave," the assistant announced before the door was locked.

҉

Dean rose from the couch and stifled a yawn that quickly spread to the rest of us. My hands ached and my back strained from leaning against a Pre-War couch. The back cushion was missing and so I had no other option but to lean against the wooden board for hours with a book in hand.

Never before could I remember a time when I had to wait for so long. I usually preferred the quiet. It was a good time to think, but the quietness between us all almost brought me to the verge of lunacy. The constant tap of a pencil against a desk and the slight creaks of the windows was also painfully annoying.

After what felt like an endless, wordless time, the sound of footsteps passed the doorway and the doctor came into the room.

Dean was the first to break the silence. "How is he?"

Doctor Usanagi was quiet for a moment, but a smile soon crossed her face. "It was difficult considering he hasn't got the best bedside manner but I was able to stitch and bandage his wounds. He's lucky. Another couple of hours and he may have caught a serious infection, or died from blood loss. It seems that you brought him here just in time."

Dean let out a heavy breath. "That's good to hear."

"Good?" Joseph snorted as he stood. "That man must be tougher than a bighorner's hide to last so long without faintin'. And I thought I was tough."

"So, he'll be alright?" I asked from my seat.

The doctor nodded. "Now, there's just the subject of payment that we need to-"

I blinked. "Payment?"

"Why, yes. The payment. You do understand that there are a matter of costs when performing procedures like this."

I held my hand up. "Now hold on a minute. We were told to bring Mister Fox here by one of the officers stationed at the 188 trading post. We were never told that we had to pay for his treatment."

She gave an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, but with the amount of soldiers that have been coming in lately the Followers just don't have the amount of resources we usually do. The only reason this place is empty is because everyone's down at the Old Mormon Fort. I wasn't even supposed to be here this long. I'm supposed to be back there. I only came back for supplies and then you lot showed up at the door."

"And how is that my problem?" I asked without a care.

Dean tried to touch the doctor's arm but she pulled away. He brought a fist to his mouth and cleared his throat. "W-what my sister is trying to say is that we haven't got the caps to pay for anything like this."

The doctor's expression notably fell. "Well I'm afraid that you're going to have to. The resources I've used-"

"What resources?" I asked. "You stitched him up. You didn't give him any pain relief or use any drugs."

"Maybe so but there's a cost for my service."

"You must be joking."

"No, I'm not." Doctor Usanagi stepped behind the counter and picked up a pen and paper. "Maybe we can work something out."

A pouch of caps hit the table with a clang. "Not necessary, ma'am. I'm sure this will cover it."

"You're paying for this?" I asked Joseph. "Where did you even get the caps?"

He leaned back against the wall and shrugged. "I always have a few spare caps for emergencies."

"And you're just doing this out of the goodness of your heart?" I narrowed my eyes. "Why don't I believe you?"

He simply winked and faced the doctor. "Doc, how long will he be?"

She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and tapped the table as she thought. "I suggest bed rest for at least a couple of days. Those injuries are going to take a couple of weeks to heal."

"I suppose that is good news at least," I whispered. "He can head back to the NCR headquarters when he's ready."

"About that," the doctor said. "I can't stay here. I have to return to the Fort."

"So?"

"So, I can't be here to oversee his progress. He'll have to leave the clinic."

"Then what do we do with him?" I asked.

"I'm afraid that's not my responsibility."

_Great,_ I thought. _Was I ever going to be free of him?_

My companions exchanged glances.

Old Miller pursed his lips. "The caravan company's only down the road. I'm sure I can pull a few strings and get you guys a couple of free bunks. The soldier can rest there, and Jade, Dean, even you Joseph are welcome to resupply for wherever ya'll are going next."

"I suppose that's reasonable," I said and stood.

"What about the meeting?" Dean asked.

I stopped. Damn it. I turned back to him with a forced smile. "I'm sure a few more days couldn't hurt."

He smiled too, but I knew that he knew that it was fake. The rope we trod on became finer and finer as the days passed. It wasn't going to be long before it snapped.


	4. Times We Must Depart

Chapter IV: Times We Must Depart

"So, you're really gonna go, girl?" Old Miller leaned back against the fence and slowly crossed his arms.

"It's not like we have a choice, Miller," I said and sat beside him. The sky above was different compared to most nights. For once it was possible to see the small specks that glistened against the dark blue. It was almost pretty. "If we could stay, we would, but it's the only way Dean and I will get paid. Can't have traveled all this way for nothing, you know?"

"Yeah, I know. Been there before, I have. It isn't a situation I have the pleasure of remembering."

"But it's just part of life. You've just got to keep moving until the road ends and then, when another presents itself, take that one. Isn't that what you taught me?"

The old man chuckled at the memory. "Yeah, it is." He raked his wet hair back and wiped the dust from his hands onto the shins of his trousers. "And the soldier?"

"He's gotten better, hasn't he? My work is done. I'll just collect my things and then go."

"Just like that?"

I nodded. "Just like that."

His mouth became a thin line of disapproval, but it was the best option. I didn't want the soldier to know who saved him. I wanted to be forgotten, that way I could put what I did behind me and focus on what really mattered.

"I can't condone ya choice, girl. I don't think it's the right one," he said.

"I don't expect you to." My gaze shifted to the Crimson Caravan Company's compound. Many of the caravaneers and guards rested under the stars by campfires and on old rickety benches. The occasional person left the barracks for fresh air, but most who were awake tended to the brahmin pens. Those beasts never seemed to sleep. Out of the five barracks, my focus was on the smaller one that had the only lit window.

"I better collect my things before I change my mind," I said and hopped off the fence.

An arm caught mine. I looked back. Old Miller's spare hand rested on my shoulder. "You're really sure about this?"

My throat felt dry. I could see tears rim his eyelids, but like the stubborn man he was, he refused to let them fall. We had travelled a long way, spent many months journeying through the wastelands to get to the Mojave. We had been through many things, saved each other's lives countless times and, even though he'd likely refuse to acknowledge it, learned a lot from one another. He was like an uncle to me and like any uncle, he only wanted to make sure that I was safe, something that could never be guaranteed.

I couldn't help but look away. I took a deep breath and steeled myself for the reaction I knew would inevitably show. "Miller, I have to go."

"I... goddamn it, girl." I gasped. The next thing I knew, his arms were around me in a hug. They trembled as his grip tightened. "I've lost too many good people in this world," he whispered. His voice wavered as he spoke. "Don't ever make me lose another, you hear?"

I felt the saltiness of a tear before I realised it had slid down my cheek. My sleeve wiped it away while the other clung to his shirt like a life-line. "You're not going to. I... I promise."

He pulled back. I felt empty. "Good. That's good." He stared at me for a moment. A grin spread across his face and he raised his head high. "Now, get your stuff. Don't dally now, or we'll have to do this again."

Despite myself, I smiled. "Sure thing, Miller."

I turned around and didn't dare look back, because if I did, I knew that I wouldn't be able to do what I had to. Leave.

Even though a light flickered in the corner of the barrack, it was dark inside. Bunks rowed either end of the room and my bag was on the farthest end. Scout still slept on the bunk. I swore that nightcrawler could sleep through anything.

As I walked, I noticed that a figure occupied the soldier's bunk. I stopped and inclined my head.

Mister Fox sat against the edge. His elbows rested against his knees, hands entwined and head hung low, as if in deep thought. Unsure of what to do, I looked back over at my bunk, but his voice cut through the silence, as clear and sharp as a knife.

"You," he said. There was some sort of cruelness in his tone. "You are Jade, yes?"

I scowled. _How did he know my name?_

Without a reply, he looked up. There was something about his gaze. It was cold and almost impossible to decipher an emotion from. I didn't like it. "You were the one who brought me here. You are the reason why I am not dead."

I arched an eyebrow. "Is that a problem?"

"Problem? Evidently not."

"Good. You were lucky."

"Yes, it seems I was."

My gaze once again traveled to my belongings. I walked over and took the sack from the ground. Scout woke up. When his glassy eyes met mine, he yawned and curled his tail further around himself.

"A strange pet," Mister Fox stated curiously. "How did you come across it?"

"I don't think that's any of your business."

He brought his sleeve to his mouth and coughed. It looked painful.

"You should rest," I said. I felt some form of sympathy for him, though I wasn't sure why. "The more you get, the more strength you'll have to make it to Camp McCarran."

He stopped. His nails curled around his enclosed fist. "Camp McCarran?"

"Yes. Your headquarters. I expect that's where you'll go. Your superiors will want to know you survived."

"Yes, of course they will. And where is it you intend to go?"

"It's like I said. It's none of your business."

"It could be." He looked at me sideways, as though weighing something. The two lines between his brows furrowed and, slowly, he rose from the seat and placed a hand on his bottom lip. "I'm sure I overheard you and your companions talking about New Vegas. You are heading to the Strip?"

"Maybe."

"Interesting. The embassy is there. I'd be far more comfortable there then Camp McCarran. Perhaps you will allow me to accompany you? The area around New Vegas is dangerous, even after the battle. You might need help, a guide perhaps?"

I rested my back against the bunk's frame. "And you're willing to do this? No strings attached?"

His expression changed to one of surprise. "Why, of course. A favour for a favour? I do, after all, owe you my life."

I bit my tongue, hard. "You can forget about that. I don't need you and you don't owe me your life."

"That's disappointing, considering that your brother already accepted my help."

I blinked. "He... what?"

"Your brother. I had a brief conversation with him. I believe Dean was his name."

I inwardly groaned. _Dean..._

"He said you could come with us?" I asked.

Mister Fox nodded.

I let out a heavy sigh. "Just because you persuaded him doesn't mean you'll persuade me."

"And yet I have done nothing to offend you. I merely wish to accompany you until we meet the Strip. Is that such an evil thing to ask for?"

"I... suppose not." If New Vegas was as dangerous as rumours told then perhaps an extra gun wasn't a bad thing. "Maybe you will be useful, and my brother seems to trust you, if what you say is true. Still, if you dare turn out to be trouble-"

"I won't. I give you my word." There was something about him I didn't like, something deep down that wasn't physically apparent. I just wasn't sure what it was.

A sound came from outside. Joseph quickly thrust his broad face and heavy shoulders into the barrack. The tail of his coat flicked against the wind outside. The door shut behind him. His hands roughly brushed his arms down and stopped once he spotted Mister Fox.

"Well now," he said with a one-sided smirk. "It looks like the little fella has woke up after all."

Mister Fox scowled at him.

"Joseph? What are you doing in here?" I asked.

"Why, making sure that everythin' is good for when we leave," he replied nonchalantly.

I blinked again. "We?"

"Well, yeah. Your brother said I could tag along with you for a while. I could use the company and I thought that since you don't know Vegas too well, that it'd be a good idea if I showed you around."

_My goddamn brother..._

"Joseph, it isn't that I don't appreciate your help but-"

"I mean I'm headin' to the Strip anyway," he interrupted, unaware of what I said. "And since I paid the doc for this soldier's health, I thought that maybe comin' with you wouldn't be such a bad thing. Have to make sure nothin' happens to you, right?"

I sighed. I should have left both Mister Fox and Joseph when I had the chance. There wasn't much I could do about it, though. "Fine, fine, but just don't get in my way. Dean and I have to leave early tomorrow and if either of you are late, well, we won't be waiting for you."

"Understood," Joseph smiled and clapped his hands. "The guys outside are havin' a game of caravan. Either of you two joinin'?"

Mister Fox flickered black eyes to me briefly before he smiled. "What's the wager?"

Joseph shrugged. "Caps, per usual."

"Count me out, Joseph," I said. "I need to get ready for the journey."

"Say no more, ma'am. I understand." He quickly focused on Mister Fox. "Now, soldier, what are you willin' to wager?" Joseph asked as he guided Mister Fox out of the barrack. He tipped his hat to me before the door slammed behind.


	5. It's Just Business

Chapter V: It's Just Business

"This is New Vegas?"

The street was wide and vacant and littered with broken glass, old worn billboards and large boulders that rested close to the crumbling ruins of once Pre-War buildings. Street lamps flickered and sparked against open telephone wires that dangled from sharp corners and the loud clamour of harsh voices were audible from the lower alleyways.

The only light came from the fires that burned in worn oil drums, but even those were covered in bullet holes. There was no music like I expected. The poles with the loudspeakers had fallen into decay. The speakers themselves were rusted and web-ridden. There was, however, a large sign above the gateway that had the city's name in twinkling lights that reminded me of what the Strip was supposed to be like.

"Beg your pardon, ma'am, but this is Freeside," said Joseph. "The Strip's through this part of the city. It's definitely an improvement compared to the last time I was here, that's for sure."

My mouth fell open. "Improvement?" It didn't look like one.

As we left the gate, a group of men, dressed in leather jackets, jean trousers and boots were perched by the side of the road and watched our movements carefully. Their hair was black and combed back, but with a stray strand coiffed over their forehead.

One of them stepped forward. "You want to travel through Freeside with ease? You need to hire a King. We're everywhere around here and no one messes with us. Your safety is practically guaranteed."

Dean chewed his bottom lip, but the smirk he tried to hide was more than obvious. "A King?"

The man crossed his arms. "Yeah. Got a problem with that?"

"What? No, no. It's just an odd name is all."

"Then you don't know who you're dealing with. We got our names from the King himself, you dig? We're the Kings because we control Freeside and there's no one that can tell us otherwise."

"So you're a gang of some sort then?" I asked.

The gang member nodded. "A gang? Yeah, I guess you could call us that, but we're more like the law. Nothing gets through Freeside without us knowing of it."

"So, what is this about hiring you?"

"Well, Freeside's a dangerous place. Isn't safe with the locals and drunks, you know? Being outside the Strip, there are a load of people who would do anything for money, including robbing people like yourselves. Now, hire one of us and your safety, like I said, is practically guaranteed."

I gestured with a thumb to my companions. "I'm not exactly alone. I'm sure I can take care of myself without much trouble."

The gang member merely shrugged. "It's your choice, but even the largest of groups find trouble here. You'll come back eventually... if Freeside doesn't get you first."

The man returned to his group, which left me a little more worried about the city.

"I've met The King once," Joseph said as we made our way through the street. "Nice fella. Very different to the rest of his lil' group."

"Is he the leader?" I asked.

"Sure is," he replied. "He's a charismatic son. Has a way with words. He's the only reason these fancy boys are around here. If he goes then it'd only be an amount of time before their group's control over this place ends."

"Sounds bad."

"It would be," he said. "But with the NCR runnin' this place and with the Legion gone, I doubt this place will go back to squalor."

Mister Fox huffed lowly but other than that, said nothing.

We wandered past many ramshackle vehicles; black from the soot and dust collected from over the decades. A lot of commotion came from an old fort and it was only when I read the sign on the brick wall, "Old Las Vegas Mormon State Historic Park" that I realised that it must have been what Doctor Usenagi had talked about. Inside must have been where many of the NCR's wounded were. In fact, there were several NCR soldiers that patrolled the outside, probably to make sure that none of the wounded or doctors were disturbed. There must have been a lot of injured from the battle at Hover Dam, though.

"If I didn't feel sorry for the Followers of the Apocalypse, now would be the time I did," Joseph said.

I raised an eyebrow. "How come?"

"Well, they treated my injuries once. They're nice people if not a little naive. There are only a handful of doctors in there, though. With the amount of strain they have keepin' people alive, I'm surprised none of 'em have ran out of that fort and ran all the way back to California."

"I suppose."

Half of Freeside was seperated by another makeshift gate which consisted of an old train carriage with a set of doors on the exterior. A wall, made up of concrete slabs surrounded the gate and were fixed with barbed wire at the top.

We dragged the Northern gates open. Inside, the other part of the city was much more rich with life and prosperity. Loudspeakers and street lights lined the roads with music and laughter. The Freeside sign was also present on the right-hand side of the street while on the other was a building lit in the colours of gold, pink and purple. The building was one of the largest and consisted of two signs, one saying "School of Impersonation" over the rows of windows, and another shaped like a guitar with three stars along the neck, with the words in bold: "The King's."

"Well, this brings me back," Joseph laughed.

Dean couldn't help but smile. "This is more like it."

Many of the King's gang members patrolled the main street while the others smoked outside of their building; chatting and drinking until they could take no more booze.

Joseph's fingers clicked in time with the music and with his hat in hand, he pointed outward. "The Strip's down this street, darlin'."

"We're not going there," I said.

He stopped. "What'd you mean? You were goin' to the Strip, right?"

I shook my head. "No, Dean and I need to go somewhere close to the Strip. There's a place somewhere near the Atomic Wrangler."

His face lit up at the sound of that and he almost skipped over to the Freeside sign. "Then why didn't you say so? I know the Wrangler like the back of my hat. Come on, I'll show you the way. Hey son, it may not be the casino's on the Strip, but this place has class."

Dean tipped his head left. "Class?"

"Yeah," said Joseph. "You know. Style. Friendly folk. Guaranteed to have a good time."

"Sounds great."

It turned out the Atomic Wrangler was impossible to miss. The casino took up the majority of the road and had music booming through the glass windows.

"So, what place is this place you're lookin' for?" Joseph asked over his shoulder.

"It's called the Silver Rush-" I fell silent.

"Is something wrong?" Mister Fox asked.

I felt my heart snag on every bone on its way down my body. The nightmares I had dreamed of the last few nights were nothing compared to the sight that greeted us.

The Silver Rush, the place my brother and I had spent many months travelling to the Mojave for, was a shell; a pile of rubble, dead and with the sign tangled and hung in loose wires.

"This... this is the place I was supposed to deliver the- Oh... shit." I shut my eyes and shook my head. Each time I looked up, the Silver Rush remained how it was.

"No. Damn it. No!" Dean shouted from behind. "H-how?"

"You were trading with the Van Graffs?" Joseph asked in a low tone.

"This wasn't supposed to happen," I whispered. "They were supposed to be here. We were supposed to drop this package off and then... but now..."

Joseph lowered his gaze. An arm stretched out for mine. "Look, ma'am-"

I jumped away from his touch. "Get your hands off me! What the hell am I supposed to do now?"

"Look, ma'am, there ain't nothin' you can do, but worryin' about it isn't goin' to help."

"I-" He was right. I had to calm myself. I had to think on what to do next.

"Here," Joseph said after a long moment of silence. "I propose we go to the Wrangler, get a few drinks and then think on what to do next."

I looked at him warily. I didn't understand why he would help us, why he was being so useful or why he even accompanied Dean and I to begin with, but what he said was true. A drink or two could clear my head and put a halt to the shivers that refused to let my body go.

҉

Joseph stood on top of his stool with a bottle of empty whiskey in one hand and his hat in the other. "And then he said, that's not a bighorner, that's my wife."

Laughs echoed through the halls of the casino, accompanied by the cheers and raised glasses from other patrons and gamblers.

As the people around me shared tales and enjoyed themselves, I grazed my finger around the rim of my glass and stared down at the reflection.

"You... are a very, very funny looking man." Dean grinned. His bottle hit the table with a heavy thud. "Tell me... tell me an-nother tale, Jo-"

Joseph laughed and clapped his shoulder. "You, my son, can't hold your liquour. I think you need to simmer down a bit."

"No! No... I need... m-more-" Before Dean knew it, his face had turned a pale shade of green and his cheeks blew to the size of a buffalo gourd seed.

"Oh no. Come on, son." Joseph ducked under my brother's arm and helped him off of his seat. "I'm not payin' for any mess you make."

Dean reached out with one hand to steady himself against the wall. With slow, uneasy steps, Joseph guided my brother away from the bar and towards the restrooms.

I waited until their shadows were distant and then downed my drink in one swig. My hands ached, my back strained from leaning over the bar and no matter how hard I tried to forget what had happened, the effects the sight of the Silver Rush had on me lingered.

"Another Rum and Nuka," I said to the bartenders.

The owners of the establishment, the Garret Twins, glanced between each other before my drink was re-filled.

Mister Fox pulled up a stool next to me and hunched over. By his side was a bottle of water. Strange how he hadn't touched a drop of alcohol since we first entered the casino. "I have to wonder what it was you were hoping to find within the Silver Rush."

"Does it matter?" I asked. "It's over. There's nothing left."

"Perhaps, but that does not mean that it was for nothing."

"You just want to get information out of me." I smirked, but his face went still for a moment. With what little control I had left in my limbs, I pointed over my shoulder to Dean who had just rounded the corner. "He was carrying a package for them."

"Ah," Mister Fox said. "So you are a courier?"

"No. Not really. My employers needed a package brought here. I merely accepted the job." My hand curved at the amount of caps I imagined floating just above the bar and yet were almost close enough to reach. "The reward would be great, they said. Enough caps to leave The False Blades." I smiled. "Enough to own my own caravan, travel the wastelands and see places people could only dream of." My hand fell. It hit the counter, hard. "Now, that'll never happen."

"So, you seek fortune?"

"No. I seek freedom. From where I came from. From the burden of responsibilities. From the contracts I have to take over and over again in order to live and to not have the constant fear of a knife against my throat."

"Then why not leave?" he asked. His attention remained fixed on me.

Uncomfortable, I looked away. "Because of the contracts, that's why. I grew up working for a mercenary company called The False Blades. Had to do jobs that made me regret a few things. This contract, the delivery job, was going to be the chance to leave the company and start a life for myself and Dean. The money was going to allow me to buy our freedom back. The company wouldn't label us as deserters and kill us themselves. I could leave, but now, now all this work was for nothing."

"That's... surprising."

"Considered me another wastelander, did you?" I took a sip. The alcohol numbed my throat and somehow made it easier to swallow. "Good. If you tell anyone about this, I might have to kill you."

Mister Fox took a sip of his water, but did not react to the mock threat. "Huh. Of course you would."

"Excuse me," the Garret sister said from over the bar. "Couldn't help but overhear you talking about the Silver Rush across the street. You wouldn't happen to be Jade, would you?"

"That depends," I said. "Who's asking?"

She frowned. "I'm not playing games. Are you or aren't you?"

"Yes, yes I'm Jade. What the hell do you want?"

A note was pushed across the table. "A man came in a couple of weeks ago. Said to give you this if you came by."

"Who was he?" I asked.

"He never said. I don't usually remember patrons that only come in the once but him, he was different. A shady character with cold eyes. Honestly, I couldn't care if he never came back here. The guy even gave me the creeps."

I stared at the note for a moment, unsure of what to do with it.

"Are you going to open it?" Mister Fox asked suddenly.

"I don't know," I said. After a moment, I decided that my life couldn't get any worse and unfolded the envelope.

_'Dear Miss Jade,_

_I know you. I have been watching you for quite some time, and I know where your true loyalties lie. As you may have seen, the Van Graffs have been eliminated from this part of the Mojave. And where does that leave you, you may ask? It leaves you in my employment. As of now._

_The artifact you carry is of great interest to me. You will bring it with you to the casino, Gomorrah, on the Strip. There your contract will be completed and you will be paid as agreed. Decide to refuse my offer and take the artifact for yourself and there will be consequences, for both you and those involved. _

_If in need of assistance, speak to the one known as The King. He will see to it that you have access to the Strip - for a price._

_Until we meet,_

_~ V.'_


End file.
